Agree To Disagree
by Love Is My Weapon
Summary: He said that she had too much to drink. She said that she hadn't had enough. They agreed to disagree. (Butch/Buttercup. Drunk. One-shot.)


**Agree to Disagree**

**~ Hello guys, I'm back with another one shot with the greens. I hope you all enjoy reading it ~**

**Disclaimer - I do not own the Powerpuff Girls or anything involved with the fandom.**

**Summary - He said that she had too much to drink. She said that she hadn't had enough. They agreed to disagree. Butch/Buttercup One-shot.**

**AN: Dedication - This one-shot is dedicated to my wonderful friend on this site, Sandra (Meleexx.) The girl is my soul sister, the one who I can always turn to, the one who can always make me laugh. I can barely remember when we first started talking - it was so, so long ago - and ever since then, we've always been there to chat about anything (Even the most random of subjects) and I honestly don't know what I'd do if I didn't have her to rant to every now and then. She's an amazing friend and a spectacular author. I encourage you all to read her stories and her one-shots, you will definitely not regret it! (: Sandra, this is for you and I really hope you like it, angel!**

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The lights were dull, blinking shamelessly, behind the bar of Blue Moon, and Buttercup wasn't sure if her lack of perfect eyesight was all thanks to the fluorescent lights, or had occurred after her fifth shot of Sambuca.

Even with her blinded vision, Buttercup still made out the willowy frame of the bartender skulking behind the high, mahogany counter, dampened with pools of spilled alcohol. She knew the bartender's name to be Jason, judging from his bland name-tag. Nice guy. A little too broody for Buttercup's taste, but nice, nonetheless.

She held up a finger to gain Jason's attention, and when the strawberry-blond turned his attention to her, Buttercup nodded towards her almost empty glass, indicating that she wanted another. Jason sent her a silent nod before turning to his back to her, searching his selection of Whiskey for Buttercup's favoured brand.

As she waited, Buttercup wrapped her splayed, delicate fingers around the lowball glass sitting in front of her, filled with hard Whiskey, mixed with a pinch of bitter spices, swirling together in a delicious concoction of liquid. She breathed out a stressed sigh as she tilted her head back, eager to retrieve every last drip of the sweet fluid.

The brim of the glass was ice-cold against the warm skin on her lips, and she welcomed the ability to feel - to feel _anything_. The Whiskey slid down, burning her throat and settling into her stomach, sending a storm of pleasant, quaking flames dancing up and down her bare arms. She slammed the glass down onto the damp base of the counter, blinking the pretty stars away from her eye sight.

Jason set another drink down in front of her, offering her a warm, familiar smile - because he knew that she only came here when she was stressed. His teal-esque eyes held soft concern, willing her to make this her last drink of the night, but she didn't listen to his eyes, she didn't take comfort in his worry, she only took comfort in the feeling of the smooth Whiskey trickling down her throat.

"I'll put it on your tab, as usual." Jason told her, his voice so deep and raw that Buttercup almost melted against her bar stool.

"Thanks, Jase." She whispered against her glass as Jason departed to tend to the newcomers at the other end of the counter.

She stared at the UV lights above the bar, flickering on and off, blinding her sight further, and she ran her tongue across her lips, licking the excess Whiskey from them. The liquid has long since lost it's taste, but she didn't care. The lights were bringing on a migraine that Buttercup didn't have the energy to deal with, and so she looked away, only to see that someone had now occupied the empty stool beside hers.

"_Butch_." She croaked out in a hoarse, irritated tone, his name slipping from her lips like venom from a snake's fang.

He hadn't changed from the five year old she had met so many years ago. His ink black hair was still spiked to perfection, still shiny in the dull, aching light of the bar. Short lashes stood tall above his dark, inviting green eyes, his smile always showed in his eyes, frivolous, excited. His thin lips were turned down in a natural brood, hiding the slight dimples at either side, shielding them from anyone's view. And yet even with the playful lines of his face, there was still a clear crestfallen look overcasting his features, as there always had been.

A casual green T-shirt covered his chest, and thanks to the short sleeves of the T-shirt, his perfect-sized biceps were out on display, rippling and attractive. The material of the shirt was delicately thin against his sinewy body, hinting at the lithe muscle hidden underneath, the hem so long that it covered the dark belt looped into his midnight jeans.

Her eyes skimmed him from head to toe, wondering how he could look so casual yet so damn attractive all in one.

Things had changed over the years, between them, and individually. Butch was no longer a Rowdyruff Boy, no longer a villain, however Buttercup still wasn't fond of him. Her sisters spent time with his brothers, as friends, and then as more, but Buttercup had made it perfectly clear that she drew the line at being anything more than acquaintances with Butch, no matter if he was a changed man.

Buttercup stared at her counterpart from behind long eyelashes, swallowing the groan rising in the back of her throat. "What do you want, Jojo?"

He simply grinned at her - ignoring her belligerent tone - and turned to send a nod over to Jason, signaling for him to get another glass.

"Drink?" He asked her, his voice a cloud of huskiness and warmth, like melting chocolate, numbing her senses like a sweet sedative.

"Yes, I am." Buttercup murmured against her fingers, pressed against her lips, misunderstanding his question.

A low chuckle escaped from Butch's quirked lips. "Never mind the drink. You may want to slow down instead."

Hoisting herself up, Buttercup straightened her spine, letting go of the glass in her hand and tapping a finger against the brim in a steady rhythm, matching with the slow beat of her heart. "What I want is another drink."

"What's up with you?" He asked in a poised tone, but damn if she didn't hear the concern swimming deep in his voice.

"I'm having a bad day." She stared down at her drink, refusing to look at him - because no matter how much time they spend together, she still _boils_ with irritation for him, he still sends her head spinning and her skin _burning_ with his presence, as he always had.

Butch leaned his elbows onto the table, tilting his head at her, trying to meet her scintillating green eyes. "So you've come to drown your sorrows in cheap whiskey?"

"Is that judgement I hear?"

"Of course not."

She rolled her expressive eyes. "I don't have the energy for you tonight, Jojo."

"Unfortunately, you're stuck with me."

"You're impossible." Buttercup released a sigh of stress, deciding to ignore her irksome counterpart at any cost.

She reached to grab her eighth drink of the night, when she felt his oddly cold fingers - as icy as snow on a late December night - wrap around her thin wrist, pausing her from achieving her goal. She turned her head to look at him, her short hair swaying against her shoulders.

Butch softened his hold on her wrist. "I think you've had too much."

Shaking her head, she ripped her arm from his grasp. "I think I haven't had enough."

"You have certainly had enough, Utonium."

She offered him a smile of bitterness, her dimples quirking up against the corners of her lips. "Then I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree."

As she pulled her sight from him, she took a quick glance around the bar. She had spent many times in the hallowed space of Blue Moon - an upscale bar located in the outskirts of Townsville. It was a place of tranquil solitude, a place where she could have a drink and drown out the troubles of her hardest days. And no one bothered to come up to talk to her - no one dared question the motives of a drunken hero, except for Butch Jojo, and he was incessant in his quest to stop her from succumbing to the nurturing effect of alcohol.

There was a lonely juke box in the far left corner, covered in thin cob webs and marks of dust. It had been sitting there since Blue Moon first opened in 1945, and it hadn't left since. On the right far corner was a more modern set of speakers, playing some soulful classical music, occasionally blaring a soft pop song. The lights were dim and fading by the door, while UV lighting set behind the bar, illuminating the wall of alcoholic beverages. Rounded oak tables sat in a row of the third wall, giving customers a chance to sit with their groups of friends and enjoy a peaceful evening, but Buttercup never sat at the tables, she only ever sat on the stools, because apart from her sister, she had no group, no real friends to spend her nights with.

As she turned her full attention back to the bane of her existence, she wondered why he was bothering tonight. He wasn't going to make her feel better, instead he was going to take away the only thing that did cheer her up - or, he was going to try.

Butch's lips twisted into a handsome, lopsided smile. "Want to tell me about how terrible your day has been?"

She let out an unattractive snort. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because it would make better sense to talk about your problems rather than excessively drink."

Her eyes narrowed. "You don't give a damn about being responsible. You were the one that got Boomer drunk on your seventeenth birthday and then told him that it would be a _totally awesome_ idea if he snuck into the Townsville Zoo and 'adopted' a penguin."

He chuckled deeply, the sound leaving shivers up her arms - because he had such a nice laugh. "That was a pretty cool night." He said through his laughter.

Buttercup raised one eyebrow. "He got arrested."

"Only for twenty-four hours." Butch pointed a finger at her in correction.

"My point is," She began, suppressing an eye roll. "why would _you_, of all people, be telling me to slow down?" When he didn't answer her immediately, Buttercup felt her lips twist a grin of realisation. She poked at his shirt with her index finger. "Aww. You care about me, don't you?"

His left eye twitched at the question. "Don't be _redic_-ulous."

"You care about me." She sing-songed, a smirk tight in her tone.

"That's it, I'm getting out of here." He announced, hoisting himself up.

She smiled victoriously, waving her hand lazily above her head. "Good-bye. Don't let the door hit you on your way out. Or do. See if I care."

Butch leaned forward, drowning in the scent of her coconut conditioner. "Do you promise that you won't drink anymore tonight?"

Tilting her head to the side, Buttercup smiled mockingly. "Cross my heart."

He stared at her for a long moment, and she glowered right back. He nodded softly at nothing; his eyes hard, his lips thinned. And then he shoved off of the bar stool and took for the door. In the seconds that it took for Buttercup to swivel back around to face the head of the bar, Butch was back, standing beside her chair with reluctance on his chiseled face.

"No, you know what, I'm not leaving." He proclaimed loudly, his voice surpassing the sounds of drinks mixing and classical music bouncing from each wall.

Turning to face him again, Buttercup glared deep into his eyes, her teeth clenching from his declaration. "Excuse me?"

"I don't care if you've had a bad day. _This_," He waved his hand over her lowball glass. "is not the answer."

She blinked, watching Butch's frame shake as she became disoriented. "What was the question?"

Butch released an exasperated sigh. "We're leaving."

"I'm staying." She replied, adamantly.

"Do you want to bet on that?"

"There's no way that I'm walking out of this club, with you."

"Who said anything about walking?"

With that, Butch reached down and wrapped his hands around her thin waist, hoisting her up, sprawling her over his left shoulder, keeping a tight grip on her in fear that she might fall off. Her body was light on his, barely bringing pressure to his shoulder-blade, and it made it easier for Butch to push forward and head towards the door.

Her legs flailed against his stomach, kicking, pounding, fighting to get away from him and back to her feet. She trashed around, unsealed her cold lips to yell. "Put me down, right now!"

"Or what?" He asked, still moving with a regular pace.

"Or I'll mess up your face so bad that your own brothers won't be able to recognise you!" Buttercup bit out with animosity. Her words were poison, and they were completely empty, but she still spat them out, using her threats to secure her free-will.

He simply chuckled, unfazed by her toxic words. "Charming."

Buttercup's voice was drowning out as she began to yell a string of obscenities. Butch wasn't listening to her anymore, he wasn't indulging her with responses. Instead, he kept his eyes straight, his lips sealed as he forced her out of Blue Moon and into the outside world.

The wind picked up around them, softly raising Buttercup's short hair from her neck, blowing icy waves onto her face, and she no longer felt like she needed a drink - she needed a jacket, dammit. Butch placed her onto the pavement, setting her down on her two feet, steadying her to make sure that she wasn't going to face-plant the earth beneath her boots.

When she was safely on the ground, out of his arms, Buttercup glared daggers at her counterpart, her nostrils flaring, her eyes burning with rage and enmity. "You had _no_ right to do that."

"Be mad at me all you want." Butch waved his hand, feigning care, but even in her disoriented mind, Buttercup could hear his voice wavering. He looked into her light eyes, watching as the shadows of the night overcast her pale face. "I'm taking you home."

She shook her head adamantly, her eyes flickering between his. "I think I'm capable of getting home by myself."

He didn't bother to patronize or argue with her; instead he thinned his lips and asked, "Can you walk in a straight line?"

"Totally." She replied, holding her head high, confidence seeping through her skin. "Just watch me."

Turning around, facing her back to him, Buttercup made a move to walk home. She felt assurance swim through her as she took her first step. Her second step, however, she felt her leg wobbling under the pressure, and in seconds she plummeting towards the dirty pavement beneath her.

Butch was by her side immediately, catching her in his arms before she could reach the ground. She fell limp in his arms, muttering even more obscenities into his green T-shirt.

"Dammit." She mumbled against him.

He lifted himself up, taking Buttercup with him. He set her back onto her feet, once again. "You're so drunk."

She pursed her lips at his comment, running a hand through her disheveled hair. "What is your point?"

Reaching his hand out, Butch helped her, brushed her hair out of her eyes and tucked the strands behind her ear. His hands didn't leave, and he didn't make a move to let go. He cradled her face in his hands, looking her dead in the eyes. Buttercup stared back at him, too confused to push him away.

"My point..is..that this might just be the perfect time to do what I've wanted to do for years." His voice was just above a whisper, calm and soft, nurturing, and Buttercup couldn't suppress the thump of her heart at hearing that voice.

She blinked rapidly, her eyes showing puzzlement. "Wha-"

Buttercup was caused to pause when Butch pressed his lips against hers. It wasn't rough, it wasn't needy, not like anything that Buttercup would imagine Butch Jojo's kiss to be like. Instead it was surprisingly gentle, caring, affectionate. He brushed his lips over hers, pausing -_waiting_- for her to do something, to react. And seconds later, she did.

Moving her lips in unison with his, Buttercup closed her eyes, kept her hands firmly at her sides, wondered what she was doing. Her heart was hammering, battering so loudly that she could hear it pounding in her ears. She felt like a prisoner to her actions - she didn't imagine kissing Butch, ever, but she was doing it, and she wasn't..hating it. Her hands curled against the hem of her T-shirt as she fought for silence, but his words were swimming in her mind with each second of their lips connecting.

_This might just be the perfect time to do what I've wanted to do for years._

_Years_.

He had wanted this for _years_.

She breathed heavily into his mouth, because he was tearing each breath out of her, planting onto her what was the epitome of a breathtaking kiss, and she let him, because in that moment, she had lost control, and all she lived and breathed was Butch and his lips and his body against hers, and it was perfect.

Lifting her arms, she snaked them around his neck, pulling him into her, replaying his beautiful words in her head over and over with each beat of her heart. She deepened the kiss, digging her nails into his neck, scraping the skin and desperately clinging to him - because this felt _real_, and she needed something real, something sincere.

His hands brushed her arms, and they were so cold against her skin, they send shivers dancing up and down her spine. He closed the small space between them and pressed their chests together, feeling her beating heart pounding against his own, so forceful and erratic, almost like her heart was trying to escape from her rib cage and jump into his.

The kiss was lingering and abiding, leaving her lips wounded, but she couldn't let go of him, not yet, because even though a part of her was screaming at her, telling her that this wasn't _right_, another part of her wasn't willing to let this go.

When they did finally part, both were left gasping, fighting for a breath, unable to move a muscle because it was too intense, too real.

"I.." Butch tried to speak through his erratic breaths, his voice hushed and forced. "I think that..I might be in love with _you_."

Buttercup blinked the blissful stars from her light eyes, trying to register his words in her brain. She squinted her gaze at him, overcoming the fainty feeling she had been subject to for the past three minutes, and shook her head, her short hair cascading around her hot face.

"You're not in love with me." She whispered hoarsely, unable to believe his words were true - because he was _incapable_ of love; that was what she had always believed.

Running his tongue over his slightly cracking lips, Butch nodded slowly. "We're just going to have to agree to disagree."

"I guess you're right." She nodded back.

An oddly brittle silence fell over them, their faces overcast with shadow, their skin tingling with ice and emotion, and without waiting for a beat, Butch stepped forward and brought his lips to hers again, stronger, with more passion, because _God_, he had wanted to kiss her for so, so long.

And as they kissed for the second time, Butch's words swam through Buttercup's head again, and it all began to make sense.

_Years_.

He had loved her for _years_.

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**~ Well, there you have it. Thank you to all who read this, I really appreciate it (: ~**

**Please review ^_^**

**Allison Peirce**


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